Uncomfortable
by Fae-and-night
Summary: Sam has always been uncomfortable in situations like this: sugary residue sticking the skin of his forearm to the bar; taste of stale beer filling his mouth; smell of burnt peanuts filling the air; and, most uncomfortable of all, an amorous, drunken brunette hanging off his shoulders and edging into his lap. Well, not anymore.


Uncomfortable.

If Sam had to pick one word to sum up his current mood right at this moment, that would definitely be the one. There are many he could choose from, really (embarrassed, irritated, frustrated, exasperated), but _uncomfortable_ pervades over all.

Sam has always been uncomfortable in situations like this: ass crammed onto a too small stool; sugary residue sticking the skin of his forearm to the bar; taste of stale beer filling his mouth; smell of mildewed cigarettes, bleached vomit, and burnt peanuts filling the air; and, most uncomfortable of all, an amorous, drunken brunette hanging off his shoulders and edging into his lap.

Sam doesn't blame her (Julie, if Dean had gotten her name right); she's obviously way past that point of "drunk enough to have no boundaries," so it's not really her fault that she's getting handsy. He mostly blames Dean (and a little bit Julie's encouraging friends). Dean's the one that saw her watching Sam, and he's the one that smiled invitingly at her when she approached. Dean's the one who grabbed her wrist and pulled one arm around Sam, just when he was going to politely turn down her drink offer.

Dean is the one currently grinning at Sam and mouthing, "Get lost, Sammy!" while making a shooing motion with his free hand- the one not currently attached to his tumbler of whiskey.

Dean has been "gently" nudging Sam to get laid for years, and his approach over the last couple of weeks (post Dean's stint as a demon) have become more and more insistent. Sam thinks it has something to do with Dean's remorse for the whole situation, and maybe just him wanting to feel like a big brother again. Sam understands that, and he appreciates the sentiment behind this; but he's just had enough.

Sam gently removes Julie's hand from his shoulder but laces his fingers through hers to pacify her. He gets up from the bar with a gentle smile, refusing to look at his brother, and leads Julie back towards her table. A few paces away, he stops and explains softly that he doesn't really… he just doesn't do that anymore. Her wide, slightly glazed teak eyes land on him, and she nods with surprising solemnity for someone with that blood alcohol level. Sam's smile widens a little, shifting from polite to genuine, and he leans down to kiss her red-tinted cheek.

When they part ways, Sam can feel the confused stares coming from both directions. He ignores them. The younger Winchester returns to his place behind the bar, placing some cash on the bar and pushing his stool in. Sam turns and leaves the bar, settling comfortably into the driver's seat and the smell of home. He's willing to wait. Sam knows that, despite Dean's inclination to find some fun of his own, he'll at least come check on Sam before he does; he knows Dean well enough to know that his brother is confused (if not worried) by what just happened.

Sam doesn't have to wait long. About twenty minutes later, the older Winchester quietly moseys out and slides into the passenger seat.  
Sam can practically hear the gears turning in Dean's head, wondering _what the hell's wrong now, _and _how do we fix it_,and (a recent development) _how do I talk to Sam_.  
Sam frowns at the thought that they've let so much come between, so much that Dean hesitates to even speak to him sometimes- how afraid he is to spook his baby brother. Still, this is a conversation they should have had years ago, and he's not going to waste Dean's silence.

"It's not a big deal," he starts reassuringly, "but I think it's something that should be said. I… I want you to stop trying to set me up."  
Dean instantly bristles, but his new skittishness reduces his response to, "Yeah, why's that?"  
Sam sighs.  
"I don't want sex," he states bluntly, deciding that this conversation would go more smoothly if he cut it as close as possible.  
That evokes a, "What? Since when?" and it coaxes a smile out of Sam; _There's Dean. _He takes the plunge.

"Since always?" he offers. It wrenches a flustered laugh out of his brother.  
"Sam, I know you've done the deed before, and I've seen your girlfriends."  
"So? Dean, know that and that's not what I'm saying. What I mean is, I just don't- I just don't want it the way other people want it."  
Dean's eyebrows pull together in puzzlement.  
"But you've…" the elder brother trails off for a moment, "Sammy, I- I think you oughta explain this to me, cause I'm not getting it."

Sam lets out a quick huff of agreement, silently wondering where to start with this. _Guess the beginning's a good as place as any. _

"Dean, do you remember my first time?" Sam ventures.  
"Yeah, it was around that werewolf hunt in Southern Cali, right? You went to prom with- uh- with Rita Chan, yeah? Big black curls and even bigger-."  
Sam holds up a hand, trying to stop the _fond_ description of one of _**his**_ girlfriends in its tracks.  
"Rosita, and yes, Dean, I was there. Do you remember how old I was when that happened? Almost eighteen, and you teased me about it for weeks. 'Took you long enough to pop the cherry-pie,' or something like that."  
Dean frowns. "I was just giving you a hard time, Sam. I always thought you were just shy."  
Sam shrugs, acknowledging his brother's point.  
"That's part of it, but it's mostly that I'm just not attracted to anyone that way, or, well, I only get attracted to them after I feel a real… connection with them. I always felt so weird about it growing up, when you and Caleb would just look at a girl with that _**look**_… and I would just sit there, wondering what it was you were seeing. By the time I really started dating anyone, all I got from you and Dad was expectations I wasn't interested in meeting."

Sam remember those years, since he hit fifteen, when Dean would as about each girlfriend or study-partner, "_Have any fun on your date, Sammy_?" or "_Man, you move as slow as a slug; your girl's gonna get bored waiting for you to find your balls_," or things like that.  
Dad never said things like that, but he always cautioned Sam with an awkward, "_Er, stay safe_," before he left to meet a girl.  
Each remark had served to make Sam feel more like a freak, more isolated- especially when both Dean and Dad ended up staying over at women's places more and more as Sam grew up.

The furrow on Dean's brow deepens.  
"What, are you saying you felt like you _**had**_ to sleep with Rosita?"  
Sam snorts.  
"Well, yeah, kinda. I thought that's what you're supposed to do, when you go to prom. And I really enjoyed being around her and kissing her, so I thought maybe it was a 'in the moment' kinda thing. And I knew that if I finally did it, it would get you guys off my back, so when she got me against a desk in one of the classrooms… I just went with it."  
The younger Winchester shrugs again.  
"It wasn't horrible, or anything, and parts of it felt good… but I just wasn't really into it. I was so glad when we had to leave for that Rawhead hunt in Arizona the next day; I didn't really want to explain to Rosita why I didn't want to do it anymore- of course, now that I look back on it, I doubt she would've anyway.

"For a while, I wondered if I was gay, but well…" Sam flushes a little, tucking some hair behind his ear and resolutely not looking at Dean, "Let's just say, experience shows I'm not any more interested in the average man than I am women, and leave it at that."  
His brother still looks a bit lost.  
"Okay, I get what you're saying, but you've been with girls since then, Ruby, Amelia, Madison… Jess."  
Sam smiles a sad little smile.  
"They were… it's complicated?" he offers.

Dean simply waves him on to continue. Sam's right; they should have had this conversation years ago… and now that they've started this unpleasantness, they might as well finish it.

"Jess… Jess was the closest I've ever gotten to wanting someone," Sam says, wistful sadness clouding his eyes. "I loved her so much, and she never pressured me. She gave me… freedom, and most of the time, I would go for it with her because I wanted her to feel as good as she made me feel, just from being with her. I've never felt closer to anyone than I did with her, romantically anyway.

"With Madison, well, everything… Everything was falling apart, and I just wanted to feel close to someone again. As for Ruby..." Sam breathes deeply. "I was punishing myself, at first. She tasted like sulfur and brick dust and death, and being with her was… empty. She liked to go on about how her host had moved on, just like I'd asked. After a while, though, I needed her, just like the blood. I just need to pour myself into someone, anyone, to keep myself from just wasting your sacrifice and blowing myself away."

Dean's fist clenches in his lap, while Sam takes a breath, moving on to another of their skeletons.

"With Amelia… Dean, I know you and Crowley laughed about it, but hitting Riot… If I hadn't almost killed him, I wouldn't have been waiting for you when you got back. I didn't just go off with the impala and drive into the sunset. It was months before I found them, and a few more before I was okay enough to move in with her safely. Even then, we were really only together because we were both… broken. It wasn't like that with Jess." Sam finishes, laying his hands out with all his cards bare.

A quiet spreads between the brothers, as Dean processes what he heard; Sam soaks in the relief he feels from finally getting that off his chest, and he thinks it fits a bit better inside himself after the confession. Dean suddenly pulls up short. "Wait, you said you've dated guys, right?"  
Sam nods, weary.  
"So, wait, all that time you've been hanging out with Cas on our days off… Sonuvabitch! Sammy, when were you gonna tell me you were knocking on Heaven's door?"

Caught off guard, Sam blushes to the tips of his ears. "What? It's not- we just- shut up, Dean!" Dean laughs so hard he damn near bangs his head on the dashboard.  
When Sam punches his arm, even the words "We're good" can go unsaid.


End file.
